


dancing without music

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Future Fic, Guilt, Happy Ending, Hugs, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Based on the prompt: "Daisy sees all of Coulson's stuff (his miniature Lolas, the player record) in his bunk in the Zephyr and feels happen."





	

It’s her third mission back, or fourth.

“Back” is a generous word. She doesn’t feel back. She still feels in between - just like being out there, on her own, it never really felt like she had completely walked away.

Now she is trying to be helpful, to start with.

The Inhumans they saved from one of the Watchdogs groups operating in the East have already arrived at a safehouse, and Daisy knows Coulson will want to know they’re safe as soon as possible and sign the official report. She knows on his office on the Zephyr, and for some reason she doesn’t wait for him to answer before coming in.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were-”

He is eating his lunch, pasta salad from a plastic bowl.

“No, it’s fine. Come in. The report - yes, I asked.”

He catches her looking at his sad meal (she knows Coulson likes enjoying his food, he doesn’t eat just to get nutrients inside of him).

“You want some? It’s not very good, but if you want to share,” he looks around, like trying to locate an extra fork.

“No, please, don’t bother,” Daisy hurries, even though she hasn’t eaten all day.

“I told you, it’s not very good,” he jokes.

She smiles politely at the joke, but she doesn’t take his food. Coulson finishes in a moment and takes the file she wanted him to see. 

Daisy paces the room, taking it in, sort of comparing it to the office he had on the Bus, but the layout is completely different. He used to have a whole closet for his suits. But he doesn’t wear suits anymore.

There’s something wrong about this room, though. It’s overcrowded with stuff, Coulson’s stuff, but in a hurried, haphazardly way. She notices the record player tucked aside, sitting on top of a piece of furniture. There are some boxes behind Coulson. Models of Lola and their old plane over his desk. She realizes why it looks so overcrowded; it’s like he tried to fit everything that was in his office in the Playground in a much smaller room. She wonders where the bed opens, and how it can even fit in here.

“Why are all your things here?” she asks him.

“Well, after I stepped down as Director the new guy needed the room,” Coulson says. “I had to take everything out. I didn’t have much time to put this stuff away. I should probably clear some space.”

Daisy has seen the new Director’s office. It’s very modern and functional and Daisy didn’t like it when she saw it. Her heart ached a bit upon realizing she couldn’t see any of the habitual objects in it, Coulson’s things.

She touches the top of the record player. It’s closed, and her fingers come out slightly blackened.

“Dust…”

“There hasn’t been much time for dancing, lately,” Coulson says, gently.

Suddenly Daisy can’t bear to look at all these things, and what them being in here means.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“What for?”

She looks at the ground. “It’s my fault you go demoted,” she says.

She hears the fabric of the chair creaking as Coulson gets up and walks to her, but she can’t meet his gaze.

“Daisy… that wasn’t your fault. And I didn’t get demoted. I stepped down. For a good reason.”

She thinks about the days between the end of it all and when she left. The hushed conversations around the corner. Talbot giving Coulson a lecture on worst case scenario, Daisy knows that meant her.

She snorts.

“Because your most powerful asset falling under the control of Hive didn’t help question your leadership, right?”

Coulson gives her an strangely amused face. 

“It did help speeding things up,” he says. “I will explain everything. I promise. But me getting kicked out of my office? It’s not your fault.”

Daisy tastes something ugly and sharp at the back of her throat, the same taste every time she stops herself from crying.

“Not everything is your fault,” he says, wrapping his arms around Daisy, so suddenly and casually that she doesn’t have time to react. “In fact, most things aren’t.”

It feels good. Just the warmth of another person around her when it’s been so long. Not just another person. For the first time she realizes what a particular smell Coulson has, of mid-range soap and safety.

It feels good and Daisy doesn’t want it to feel good.

She slips one arm between their bodies and pushes Coulson away, without much strength or conviction.

“No…” she lets out.

Coulson lets her go immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

"It’s just that… I don’t deserve it.”

“Daisy-”

She takes the tablet from his desk.

“You signed this already, right?”

He hesitates. “Yes, I-”

“Thank you.”

And she is out of his office.

 

+

 

“What time is it?” she asks.

“Where?”

She smiles. “Fair enough.”

They have been working for hours, contacting local enforcement about threats to local Inhumans, thanks to the latest security snafu, from the FBI now.

She gets up, wanting to stretch her legs a little, even if it’s just pacing around Coulson’s office. It still looks crowded, but she has gotten used to it. She likes crowded anyway.

She stretches her arms.

“You should get some rest,” Coulson tells her, looking up from his computer. “I can take care of this.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. Just taking a break.”

He nods.

She is really not sure what time is it. But she has the feeling is deep night, or at least some place it is. It feels like that moment when it’s too late to feel sleepy anymore, but there’s an edge to everything anyway.

She starts walking through the room, distractedly touching Coulson’s collection of vintage items, his books, the furniture.

She stops when she comes to the record player, running her fingers over the case.

“No dust,” she comments.

“I gave it a spin the other day,” Coulson replies, getting up as well. “To see if it still worked.”

“And did it? Still work?”

He walks up to her.

“Let’s see…”

For a moment, as he reaches his hand to the record player, Daisy thinks he is going to hug her again. But he doesn’t and her stomach drops a bit at the realization that she actually wanted him to.

He lifts the top. The record says Blossom Dearie. Not a name Daisy recognizes, but when the music starts playing she is pretty sure that she has heard the tune before, coming from Coulson’s old office at one time or another.

For a moment it seems like they are just going to stand like that - listening to this too-romantic music and not moving. Daisy looks up and Coulson is just looking at the vinyl spin on the plate. He looks oddly content and suddenly she feels the same.

She takes a step between his legs and wraps his arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together.

Coulson doesn’t react. He’s not pushing Daisy away but after her rejection last time he tried to hug her he’s understandably unresponsive.

She presses her cheek against his chest, like she would do if they were dancing, but they aren’t.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

Her words seems to be permission enough for Coulson to lift on hand to the back of her hair, and he starts stroking her hair gently.

“This is fine.”

 

+

 

He comes into the office barely moments after she does. 

He brings two sandwiches in his hand - he’s taken to making their lunch himself, when he has the time, and lately it’s all about elaborate combinations. Today Daisy is pretty sure he was going to make Hoisin duck wraps, even though she offered to pick up some hot Pockets on her way back to the plane.

In any case he catches her.

Daisy struggles to hide the object she is holding behind her back from him.

“What are you doing?” Coulson asks, narrowing his eyes at her and leaving their lunch on his desk.

“Nothing,” she tells him. “It’s just, it’s stupid.”

She gives up and shows him, more embarrassed at her impulsive decisions than she thought she’d be. She has her Hula girl figurine in her hand.

“Since my van is going to be in storage for now…” she starts. “I thought maybe I’d take her here.”

Coulson nods, just letting her talk. He does that a lot. Just let her talk as much as she needs.

“Your office is pretty crowded already but I was thinking… maybe you can find some room for her in here?”

“I think we can find her a spot,” he says quietly.

He takes the Hula girl from her hands, brushing his fingers across her palm as she lets go. It gives her a thrill, which is silly, she knows. But she can’t help it, it still gives her a thrill. Every time. Coulson must have noticed, because he gives her a smug smile before looking around for a place to put the thing.

He places the figure next to a tiny model of Lola (he has three of those, different sizes, but still, _the dork_ ). Then he takes a step back, like he’s _contemplating_ his choice. He gives Daisy an odd, sideways look.

“See? It’s like the place was just waiting for her.”

Daisy wants to roll her eyes at the sap, but she can’t. She slides one arm around Coulson’s waist instead.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head.

“No need to. I’m just telling the truth.”

She looks at the Hula girl.

He’s right.

She just fits.


End file.
